The Mudblood My Son Loved
by nosiddam
Summary: Lucius Malfoy's point of view upon witnessing a revelation between his son and a certain bookworm. Rated M for swearing, but nothing too intense.


**The Mudblood My Son Loved**

Draco was panicked.

He hid it flawlessly, a Malfoy to the bone, his face impenetrable, yet his eyes were windows, weakly stained glass, beautiful despite being completely opaque, regardless of being the colour of my own, those eyes were his mothers. Wide as he watched Fenrir soar high above us in a cloud of black smoke, following my wife's lunatic sister Bellatrix as she destroyed whatever it was she saw fit.

Rather than reaching for my hand as he had done as a small child, a habit I'd quickly had extinguished, my son backed away from us, in fear, in awe, I could not quite determine. Severus bellowed my name across the screaming crowd of filth surrounding us, fool, he always had been.

"Do not allow yourself to be seen," I instructed Draco before moving towards the other man.

I heard the distanced "yes, father" I had become accustomed to as the years saw my child moulded into the young pureblood man the Dark Lord had demanded be introduced to our world.

Draco did not notice my eyes trained on him as he immediately dispatches, his frantic legs propelling him forward, driving his dread to its source.

I knew my son well enough to know it surely was not Parkinson's wench daughter that drove my son to disobey a direct order, yet I did not know him enough to realise my son had been so terrified of the fate that would befall the Granger mudblood.

Perhaps I was foolish, having been blind to Draco's bond with the girl, yet upon his proximity to her, I was forced into the appalling recognition that not only had Narcissa and I been foolish for believing our boy to trust our ideals implicitly his entire life, but that Draco himself had foolishly allowed himself to become so dreadfully attached despite our contract with the Parkinson's.

At first I believed that perhaps he merely felt some flicker of a misguided sense of loyalty to a fellow student, an emotion that could be forgiven, commended even when presented correctly to the Dark Lord, but no, it was not loyalty that attracted my son to the girl like desperate schoolboys to a female Veela. It was neither a despicable bond of friendship between a like minded pair of intellectuals, nor was it a demonstration of the inter-house unity rubbish Albus Dumbledore had been attempting to brainwash every child he could reach with. In my horror, my trepidation, I stood frozen long having forgotten my fellow death eaters as they set about bringing the site to ruins, observing Draco's interactions with the girl who quivered in fear before my boy. Despite our distance and the faint haze of my glamour charm, I recognised the alarm the Granger girl failingly attempted to hide was an icy grip around my son's heart; I could see it in the softening of his eyes despite the gritting of his teeth, an action Narcissa would surely have chided him for. Yet somehow I sympathised with him, for I too had felt that anguish upon Narcissa's unadulterated fear of me as I returned home marked with a scar burning even now, my boy surely suffered at this moment.

"Where are your buffoons?" he demanded, forgetting all propriety as he gripped her shoulders.

Her eyes narrowed to slits at his question, the indirect insult causing the girl to snap, "Harry and Ron are looking after the Weasleys, thank you very much."

Draco appeared as though he could tear Potter and Arthur Weasley's boy limb from limb, his rage burned fire in his eyes.

"But you- who is looking after you?"

Her outrage perhaps dulled his panic, Draco always had loved a rise out of the self righteous Gryffindor girl, he almost smirked as she protested, "I do not ne-"

"There is no time Granger," my son hushed her. Regaining a glimmer of the haughtiness Narcissa and I had bred him with he snapped, "surely the brightest witch of our age would know that now is the fucking time to get out of here!"

Just then, she appeared as though she would protest or fight him, or tell Draco precisely what he could do with his suggestion in the outrageously savage muggle way, Draco brought himself closer to her and it was then I knew I had lost him.

"Please," he added, "be safe, Granger. I- I need you to be safe."

His admission was both as unnecessary and horrifying to himself as it was to me. His lineage alone should have kept those words from being spoken aloud. The girl appeared to be as shocked as I, looking as though she could faint as she daftly stammered, "y-you need-"

And it was just like that my son could no longer bear to hear another word leave her mouth, unable to stomach his own words be once again being spoken aloud, he could not bring himself to speak once more, not quite yet. For he sought to prove his desperation to the girl as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her with his hand on her cheek and his eyes tightly closed.

My own hand tightened on my wand, how dare Draco disgrace our family in such a way for a quick display of affection with a mudblood. Surely he knew better than to touch such filth. My eyes remained poised on the two as they parted, watching my son beginning to deflate, hope dwindling from his being and filling my own, of course only until the girl brought her hand to his chest and murmured quietly, "Draco."

To my horror and his relief, Draco lit up like his mother when I told her that I loved her, full and beautiful in ways I had not seen in years. With a sneer, my poised wand dropped at once, for my disappointment would cease to alter the decision of my son. Draco was a Malfoy to the bone, and Malfoy men would do anything for the women they loved, for I saw it now, I could not harm the mudblood, for this was the woman my son loved.

**A/N: This is my first ever attempt at a fanfiction, please do not tear me to shreds, however any reviews or opinions on this would be lovely. Also, I do not own any of the characters mentioned here, I am only expanding on the work of the wonderful J.K. Rowling**


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